"How did it come to this?" Harry's voice echoed throughout the halls of Azkaban. He had been there for at least two years, and now he was at the ripe age of twenty.
It all started right after he turned 17. The only way to describe it was brutal. His last remaining family had died, killed by Voldemort and his Deatheaters. Harry had been happily humming to himself when he heard a quiet. An unnatural quiet since the house was always filled with Dudley's chewing. But something was wrong. Grabbing his wand, Harry slowly made his way downstairs. To see people you don't like getting killed was sad, but to see people you hated, who were also your family, getting mutilated before your eyes was heartbreaking. Harry didn't have time to grieve. Hooded figures were surrounding the Dursleys, before one spun around.
"Stupefy!" Someone called, and the last thing Harry saw was a red light.
In real time, Harry chuckled. He should have known better than to wait and grieve. The Deatheaters wouldn't have let him. Harry went out like a punk, and the aftermath was no better.
He woke up in a courtroom, and strangely, his first thought was, "I'm hungry." Minister Scrimgeour laughed coldly. The basis of it was his friends- no- his family went up there and started calling him the filthiest of names, the vilest of words. Not a single person, Remus included, believed him.
Harry was sure that if Dumbledore was here, he would help. But that wouldn't do him any good, wishing the dead back to life. Harry shuddered as he remembered his 'friends' destroy his possessions, the entire wizarding community, whom he had put his life on the line for, turned their backs to him.
In Azkaban, Harry seethed at the Ministry's blindness, sending him there on the accusations that he killed his own family.
But Harry could do nothing. Unlike Sirius, he had no animagus form. He would never be able to get out.
At least, not till today.
Harry had done his workout, just enough to keep him in shape. He still looked like a noodle, a dirty one, but as he was examining himself in a shard of broken glass, he heard something. A tapping. Hope filled his heart as he ran to the wall and started tapping back. There was a certain rhythm to it, based off of one of Dudley's cartoons. Harry sung along as he tapped:
My name is
Shake-Zula
The Mike-Rulah
The Old-schoolah
You wanna trip?
I'll bring it to ya.
He waited for the response. For few moments, there was none. Until, along with the tapping, there were words:
FryLock
And I'm on Top
Rock you Like a Cop
MeatWad
You're up next wit' ya knock- knock
Together, they finished it.
MeatWad make the money, see?
MeatWad get the Honey's G.
Drivin' in my Car
Living Like a star
Ice on my fingers and my toes and I'm a Taurus
Uh, check-check it
Yeah
'Cause we are the Aqua Teens
Make the Homies say Ho
And the girlies wanna scream.
As they both rapped, Harry noticed something. There was a feminine voice there. "Hello?"
"Hello, Harry." Furthering his surprise, the girl appeared not in the cell next to him, but in front of it. She had blonde hair, and an unusual bang that went down over her eye. "My name is Kyra. Need some help?" She had an American accent. She grabbed Harry's bars and with astounding strength, ripped them off! "I come from a school. A school for people like you. "
"Me?"
"Yes. You, Sir Harry, are a mutant."
